


All I Wanna Do (Is Grow Old With You)

by fandomfrolics



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfrolics/pseuds/fandomfrolics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First posted on Tumblr for dyionisiac and doyoutwofondu, for the prompt "Tony/Steve/Bucky Tony realizing he’s the only one without serum (feels or porn, either one)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Wanna Do (Is Grow Old With You)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Adam Sandler song

The clang of the glass hitting the table makes Bucky’s head snap up. It’s only Steve’s arm tightening around his shoulders that stops him from jumping to his feet and reaching for a weapon that isn’t there.

It takes barely a moment for him to realize it’s just Tony with a bottle of scotch. He lets the tension drain out of him, feels Steve’s arm relax in response as Tony leaves the bottle on the table and sweeps past their couch to collapse on the nearby armchair.

“So,” he says without any preamble, “neither of you can get drunk, right?” He kicks his legs up over one side and takes a deep swig from the glass in his hand.

Steve unwraps his arm from around Bucky and reaches forward for the remote. He hits pause, then tosses it off to one side. Bucky doesn’t have to catch his eye to know that Steve’s seen what he’s seen, that Tony’s got that bleary look in his eyes, that the half-empty bottle didn’t begin the day that way.

“You know we can’t,” Steve says, the words carefully neutral.

“I guess that’s  _one_ downside,” Tony shoots back breezily. His head is tipped back, the drained glass gripped loosely between his hands as it rests in his lap and there’s something about the slump of his pose that makes him look absolutely drowned by the chair.

There’s a hole in the toe of his stripy socks, the ones that he’d bought when he’d dragged Bucky out on some absurd shopping trip when Bucky was having a particularly bad day. They’d paraded up and down Times Square, going to every touristy shop with Tony getting more and more ridiculous things at each one, peaking with red, white, and blue M&Ms with little pictures of Steve’s butt printed on them.

The socks had also come with some ridiculous matching stripy briefs; Bucky would bet his right arm that Tony was wearing them right now. Somehow he didn’t really think this was the time to try and find out.

“Stark,” Bucky says when it’s clear Tony’s not going to be any more forthcoming, “what the fuck are you on about?”

There’s a beat before Tony swivels upright with a sudden burst of energy. He leans forward and tugs the bottle towards him to refill his glass. “So this serum,” he says. “It’s designed for the cold, right? Cos I mean, both of you have done time as a popsicle. And clearly neither are worse for the wear.” He tips the bottle in Bucky’s direction. “Brainwashing and missing arm notwithstanding.” Glass filled to the brim, he caps the bottle and slouches back in the chair. “Do you come with a warranty? If you lose another limb, do they replace it with a ‘refurbished device’?” Bucky can feel Steve holding himself stiff with tension but he just snorts while Tony, oblivious, takes a sip. “Of course, Stark warranties are the real deal. None of that Apple or Samsung bullshit. You bust that arm—” He points his index finger, keeping the other fingers wrapped tight around his glass. “You come straight to me, I’ll get you all fixed up.”

Tony waits until Bucky nods before pulling his finger back in. He brings the glass up to his chin but doesn’t drink, just stares at the two of them over the top of it, his eyes running over them, flicking left and right, up and down, over and over. Steve and Bucky both just look quietly back. Neither one is quite sure where this has come from. Because Tony drinks, sure, but it’s been a long while since he’s drank like this.

After a long moment, Tony’s gaze breaks away and drops to his drink. He flicks his hand a little, stares at the liquid swishing around inside the glass. “I’m not supposed to mix this with my medication,” he says and then without any warning, chucks the glass over his shoulder. It slams into the window with a resounding crash.

Steve frowns. “What medication?”

“Hmm? Oh it’s nothing.” Tony rubs at his eyes tiredly and tips his head back. “Just your standard issue old man painkiller to kill old man back pain.”

Ohhhh.

Bucky gets up and goes over to Tony. “Stark,” he says, sliding one knee between Tony’s leg and the arm of the chair. He hitches the other leg up so that he’s straddling Tony’s lap and balances his hands on the other man’s shoulders, carefully keeping most of his weight on his own legs. “Tony. You’re not going anywhere anytime soon. Unfortunately. Ow!” he exclaims as Steve’s hand glances off the back of his head. Steve circles around the armchair and positions himself behind it. Bucky’s hands drop to cover Tony’s and Steve’s take their place, kneading Tony’s shoulders firmly. Steve dips his head and murmurs something into Tony’s ear, presses a gentle kiss to his shoulder before straightening up again. Bucky, meanwhile, tugs at the hem of Tony’s shirt, easing it gently up.

“Woah there, tiger,” Tony quips. “At least buy me dinner first.”  But he can’t quite seem to muster the energy to even raise his head. Whatever Steve had said seemed to have sucked most of the fight out of him. Bucky ignores him anyway and edges the shirt just high enough to reveal the bottom of Tony’s ribcage and the giant bruise running up his side.

Steve inhales sharply.

Bucky presses at the skin carefully until Tony hisses. “I guess that fall  _was_ as bad is it looked,” Bucky says.

Tony turns his head, averting his eyes from Bucky’s piercing look but Bucky catches his chin. He runs his gaze over Tony’s face, then just sighs and presses a soft kiss to his lips.

“C’mon,” he says, easing back until he’s standing in front of Tony. He tightens his fingers around the hand under his and tugs, urging Tony to his feet. “Let’s let Steve’s hands work their magic on your back tonight.” He gets behind Tony, nudges him gently towards the door to the bedroom. He starts to follow Tony’s stumbling steps but feels Steve’s arm catch him around his waist. He leans back, relaxing into the warm mass behind him. Steve’s lips press against the side of his head in a lingering kiss and then his chin comes to rest on Bucky’s shoulder. They stay like that for a long moment, watching as Tony makes his way out with a hand on the doorframe for support.

“We’re going to have to talk about this,” Steve murmurs. The resignation in his voice mirrors the tiredness Bucky feels all the way down to his bones. “Even if he doesn’t remember in the morning.”

“I know,” Bucky sighs. He turns in Steve’s embrace and finds nothing but worry in his eyes. He sets his arms on Steve’s shoulders, brushes his fingers lightly over the soft hair on his nape. “But there’s no point trying right now.”

“Yeah.” Steve dips his head until it rests against Bucky’s. His eyes flutter shut and Bucky’s follow suit. “Yeah,” Steve repeats, the word barely more than a breath.

Bucky’s got no idea how they’re going to handle this. It’s something he’s barely come to terms with himself - the idea that he may outlive most everyone around him. And where it once seemed that having Steve beside him was enough, Tony had somehow crept his way in and staked a claim on a part of his heart he’d thought gone forever.

Both of their hearts, he amends, as he hears the shudder in Steve’s breath. He pulls his head back and slides his hand up to cup Steve’s face.

“Hey,” he says and Steve opens his eyes. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

It’s a boldfaced lie and they both know it. But really, what else is there to say?

He kisses Steve tenderly, tries to reassure him through the simple touch as he’d done with Tony minutes earlier. “Tomorrow,” he says. “Brooding is scheduled for tomorrow.” He drops an arm to Steve’s waist and tugs him towards the door. “Tonight we’ve got a dirty old man to tend to.”

Steve laughs then and shaky as it may be, it loosens something in Bucky’s chest and brings a smile to his lips.

They make it to the bedroom to find Tony sprawled across the bed on his stomach, one arm tucked under his head and snoring loud enough to summon the dead. Judging by how his shirt is currently bunched up around his shoulders and neck, it looked like he’d made an attempt to tug it off somewhere along the way. His pants hang low enough that Bucky can see he was, indeed, correct about the stripy briefs. His hair is sticking up every which way.

He looks, Bucky thinks as he admires the sculpted line of his body, far more like a wayward college student than any overworked superhero businessman on the wrong side of forty had any right to.

Steve pulls him towards the bed. They both undress and collapse on top of the covers, neither bothering to try and right Tony. Steve, propped on one elbow, gingerly catches Tony’s shirt between two fingers on each hand and eases it over his head. He tugs a blanket down from where it’s draped over the footboard and tosses it over their bodies.

Three pairs of feet dangle off the side until Bucky curls up, insinuates his legs between Tony’s and Steve follows suit until their six limbs are a jumbled mess left for the morning to untangle. Tony doesn’t even stir.

Bucky sees Steve stroke gently at the bruise down Tony’s side. He reaches a hand across Tony’s back and catches Steve’s wrist, forever grateful to Tony doing whatever he did to make this tolerable, his touch from the part of his body that is no longer his own. Steve twists in his grip and tangles their fingers together, brings their twined hands to rest on the middle of Tony’s back. He tilts forward and Bucky levers up slightly to meet him halfway in a soft kiss.

When they break apart, Steve’s mouth is left dangling open slightly, like he’s preparing to say something but the words never come. Instead he eases his body down, lifts Tony’s arm so that he can tuck himself underneath it and bury his face in the crook of Tony’s neck.

Bucky lays back down too and stares at Tony. Watches his body rise and fall with each snuffling breath. He shuffles a little closer and buries his nose in Tony’s hair - his disgusting, sweaty, grease-filled hair - and breathes in deep.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says again, “anytime soon.” And this time, with Steve’s hand in his and Tony’s warm body rising and falling between them, he almost believes it.


End file.
